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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29700747">To Have, To Lose, To Find Again</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperSilverSpy/pseuds/SuperSilverSpy'>SuperSilverSpy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, Alternate Universe - No Capes AU, Angst, Bruce doesn’t exist, But he is still a hero, Catalina Flores Deserves Worse Than Death, Civilian AU, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson Whump, Dick Grayson is Not a Vigilante, Dick Grayson-centric, Gen, Hurt, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, It will be referenced throughout, It’s very much implied, Just when you think you can’t hate her anymore..., No Spoilers, No promises about the rest of them though, Only in the Prologue though, People, SilverGrayson, SuperSilverSpy, Tarantula Trauma, They are semi-normal, This is my first multi-chapter fic, Underage - Freeform, Whump, in his own way, neither does Tim, tags will be added as the story goes on, very traumatized</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:33:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,088</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29700747</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperSilverSpy/pseuds/SuperSilverSpy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s been so long, Mi Amour.”</p><p> </p><p>Dick froze.</p><p> <br/>Read the tags people<br/>This summary will probably change.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson &amp; Catalina Flores, past Dick Grayson/Catalina Flores</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>To Have, To Lose, To Find Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey,<br/>I know I don’t have enough of a following to have been missed<br/>But I’m sorry, all the same<br/>I started this one work, then worked on another for a while...<br/>Then this thing popped into my head yesterday <br/>And it demanded that I write it<br/>Who was I to deny such a request?<br/>So here this is, it’ll be completely improv<br/>It will either be the thing that I write on a whim<br/>Or I’ll become one of those authors who ignores everything else to focus on one fic<br/>This may be the one<br/>It’ll be my first serious multi-chapter work <br/>There will be many plot twists<br/>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dick smiled, waved goodbye to Michael as the man left. He wasn’t sure if his boss was just crazy and way too trusting, or if he had actually earned it. This privilege of being the only one left in their dingy little auto-repair shop, the one to finish last and close the place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d come in looking ragged and beat, willing to do anything for some cash. Michael took pity on him, let him manage the little room in the back full of disorganized files and paperwork; they hadn’t had anyone to take calls and manage the finances for quite some time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick had always been good at math.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d tidied the place up, worked overtime to re-organize everything and put things in alphabetical order. Then, when the time came to prove he was actually useful for something having to do with cars and mechanics, he’d be ready. The first month of work before then had given him enough to buy a book about the subject while still having money for at least one meal a day. Provided he bought nothing else, paid for only rent, and got up at five everyday to get to work on time by way of the streets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, he hated his life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he was grateful for the job—the cash—more than he’d ever made in his sixteen years of living (it had helped him so much that he could pass for eighteen) and he had a roof over his head to call his own, a privilege he hadn’t had since the circus.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Never let it be said that he wasn’t optimistic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick finished up as he usually did, going through paperwork and shutting things down, turning off the lights...etc. He locked everything but the door he was to leave through, grabbed his things, exited, locked </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>door, then began the long trek through a nasty portion of Gotham to make it back to his apartment for some regularly scheduled passing out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He avoided dark alleyways as much as possible, kept his head down, ignored the bad memories. Everything was routine until he got home. ‘Til he swung open the door, collapsed on his ratty, rundown couch in his ratty, rundown apartment. Everything was fine until a voice whispered at him from out of the shadows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s been so long, Mi Amour.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick froze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He remembered unfamiliar hands against his skin, touches in places they should never be. Remembered struggling, slipping against slimy alleyway ground as rain hammered down. Getting caught in his clothes, ripping. Her voice was loud in his ears, panting. His own cries of pain as she held him down. He remembered the feel of her lips, her body, pressed against his own. He remembered hating it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And he remembered saying no.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wh—what…” he stammered, feeling as his body locked in a struggle between fight or flight. Then he snarled, “Get out, get out of my house!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He threw himself from the couch, dove for a hidden knife. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stepped out of the shadows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Leave me alone!” he shouted, heaving as he held the knife out threateningly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hands were shaking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Catalina held up her own in a mockery of peace.  “Hush baby, I’m not here for </span>
  <em>
    <span>that. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Though you look like you could certainly use it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smirked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick fumbled for his phone. “Get out or I’m calling the police!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She remained unflinching. Stood there, in his </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span>, closer to his bedroom than she’d ever been before. Dick felt nauseous.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And what would you tell them? she asked, condescending. She leaned forward, as if to say something more, then closed her mouth. Looked around, almost nervously. That was when Dick noticed the rips in her clothes and the bags under her eyes. Come to think of it, she looked terrible. Dick didn’t care. He tightened his hold on the knife, clenched the other fist at his side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Leave me alone. I told you I never wanted to see you again and I meant it.” His voice was cold, hard. It barely hid his fear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She snapped, “We don’t have time for this, Mi Amour.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick flinched, backed further away. “What do you want with me anyway? It’s been </span>
  <em>
    <span>two years</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Remember that crime boss we took care of a while back? The Desmond guy? He had some some stupid made up thing he wanted everyone to call him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Blockbuster,” he whispered, eyes wide and reliving that night. The scent of gunpowder filled his nostrils, and he backed up yet again, fell on his a**.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” she continued, uncaring, “he had a sister and she’s even </span>
  <em>
    <span>worse</span>
  </em>
  <span>, baby, you can’t imagine the things I’ve been forced to do to get away from her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick looked on in horror. He threw the knife, she sidestepped, and kept going.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The woman’s crazy, deada** insane, but intelligent and powerful, she’s got people everywhere. And, she knows about </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick wondered why she told him. She wasn’t the type to care, not about anyone besides herself at least, he’d learned that lesson well enough. Whatever her reason, he had a strong feeling he wouldn’t like it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anyway,” she said, waving her hand dismissively, as if he didn’t matter. Which to her, he didn’t. (Sometimes he wondered if he even did to himself.) “I came by to drop </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>off.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She said it so casually, like they were conversing about the weather, like she hadn’t just swung a sling from over her shoulder. Like she hadn’t just made a child cry and pushed a near infant into his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like she hadn’t just destroyed his world yet again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His arms wrapped instinctively around it after a long pause. Dick stared.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s yours, Mi Amour,” he heard her whisper past the ringing in his ears. “You can do the tests, but there’s no doubt about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And there wasn’t. Even he could see, the eyes that stared back at him in the mirror, the few times he’d dared to look since that night. The hair that was most definitely his, thick and curly. Strong features, some his, some </span>
  <em>
    <span>not.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The child’s skin was darker too, darker than his own. He didn’t need any tests, he wasn’t blind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It felt like an eternity before he looked up, looked up to see an empty apartment, save for a stack of bills on the table and an envelope that definitely weren’t there before. The window was open, and she was gone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had left him with a baby, </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>baby, and she wasn’t coming back.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just when you thought you couldn’t hate that woman anymore amiright?<br/>This is just the prologue though actually, I used it to bait you all<br/>Not that it won’t come into play later on<br/>I’m really nervous that this won’t get a lot of attention actually...<br/>That’s why I never tried to write a multi-chapter before<br/>I’m more confident about this plot though<br/>Pleeeeaaase comment, kudos if you liked, and subscribe for more<br/>As always, thanks to my amazing beta teeelsie</p><p>Stay whelmed!<br/>-Silver</p></blockquote></div></div>
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